


It's The Thought That Counts

by tealady19



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Keith (Voltron) is Trying his Best, M/M, Post-Canon, Season 8 Doesn't Exist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:42:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26429572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tealady19/pseuds/tealady19
Summary: It’ll be fine, Keith tells himself.  People do this all the time, it’s easy.  He can even make them a little fancy, there are bows and ribbons, coloured paper and tissue.  Keith’s sure he’s seen Shiro wrap a present that had a fan folded into the paper, that could look nice.  There are so many things, it would be good to have some kind of variety.Keith never actually learned to wrap presents.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 45
Kudos: 107
Collections: Sheith Prompt Party 2020





	It's The Thought That Counts

**Author's Note:**

> We had so much fun working as a team on this prompt! You'll find artist anon's work embedded in the scene where it belongs. Thanks [sheithparty](https://twitter.com/sheithparty) mods for putting this together and giving us the opportunity to become friends! 
> 
> We hope you enjoy this silly thing.

Keith has managed to find himself in a predicament. It’s not unusual and is, in fact, far more likely than either he or Shiro would prefer, but Keith’s never been one to back down from a challenge. Even if this time it might be a little more than he’s prepared to handle.

He’s been, let’s say, _strongly encouraged_ to take the lead on the gift giving procedures for the upcoming Coalition conference - it coincides with one of the member's major cultural holidays, so the Coalition has decided to embrace the tradition on the evening of the second day. As far as Keith can tell it seems like an energetic solstice holiday that involves a lot of drinking, laughing, and gifts. The gifts are all piled on a table and attendees approach in twos and threes, one elaborately toasting the others with the local wine and the others returning the sentiment with a gift plucked from the pile.

The gifts are all random, a strange collection of things that don’t seem to have any connection to each other and it’s really making Keith wonder what he’s got himself into as he stares down at the pile of things on their living room floor. It’s Keith’s day off and he’s determined to get through this pile today. The conference is still a week away but he’d much rather spend his free time with Shiro, who can blame him?

Allura had helped him compile a list of actual gifts to have available and he’d managed to enlist Romelle and Hunk’s assistance in collecting all the individual items. But unfortunately for Keith, all of them have other duties they’re expected to do and the gift wrapping is falling squarely onto Keith’s shoulders. He’s still not quite sure how he’s ended up with this assignment – he just remembers getting back from a long humanitarian mission on Revix 4, having just enough time to turn around quickly in the shower and change into his red uniform, and then scarf down three of Hunk’s protein bars he and Shiro keep in their quarters when they’re late for meetings. Somehow he’d made it to the briefing in time and must have agreed to whatever they were saying.

He’s regretting that decision as he looks at the fifty-odd items stacked a little precariously in a box on the living room floor. None of them are bigger than his knife is long, but some are awkward shapes. He’s got some boxes to tuck the weirder ones into but he’s just going to wing it for the rest of them. How hard can it be?

Keith tries not to think about how that sounds like famous last words.

Gift-giving isn’t something that Keith has ever been particularly good at. He’s never really seen the point most of the time, and when he does do it, it’s often out of peer pressure or some skewed sense of obligation. Or some ridiculous diplomatic necessity that is over his head enough he can just sort of.. pawn it off on Allura or Shiro and it takes care of itself. He can count on one hand the number of times he’s bought a specific gift in his entire life.

He had made cards in school and at home for his dad’s birthday and Father’s Day, hand-drawn and carefully folded. _Happy Birthday, Daddy! I love you!_ was easy enough to scrawl inside since Keith had never been good with words even as a child, but he liked drawing. The cards were usually accompanied by something interesting he’d found in the desert, or a drawing, or one year, a set of handmade coupons for things like _one back massage_ or _I’ll make dinner_ or _weed the garden._ Nevermind the fact that what little garden they did have in the back was mostly weeds anyways and Keith couldn’t actually use the stove without supervision.

His dad had used one coupon each week until they were finished, teaching Keith what he didn’t know how to do already and complimenting his skills every time. The coupon book had been used up within two months, but his pop had kept the paper slips in the card afterwards, little treasures that Keith would sometimes see him pull out and flip through with a soft smile as he got a little older. He’s not sure what happened to that book, but Keith cherishes the memory.

Shiro’s first birthday after they’d become friends wasn’t a leap year, but Keith had still wanted to celebrate. It had taken courage after years of stifled creativity to start drawing again, but on February 28th that year, Keith had knocked on the door to Shiro’s quarters a little before curfew, gift clenched tightly in his trembling hand. He hadn’t even remembered to get a ribbon or something to make it look nicer, Keith admonished himself as he waited. Shiro had already been so kind to him, the least he deserved was an attempt to make his present half-way decent.

Somehow the fact that Adam would be there had completely slipped his mind and when Shiro opened the door far enough that Keith could see the remains of their dinner and an uncut cake on the table, he almost made his excuses and left. Instead, Shiro’s smile widened impossibly, and even Adam seemed encouraging, welcoming him in to share a slice of cake. He must have also noticed Keith’s trepidation, because he shooed the two of them off to the living room with late-night tea while he took care of washing the dishes, giving Keith and Shiro a little time to themselves.

The drawing was rolled up, slightly wrinkled from Keith’s sweaty hand, but he held it out shyly, before he could talk himself out of it. Shiro had taken it gently, unrolled it flat on the coffee table, and stared at the drawn landscape for a long time. Keith had tried to capture the view from the ridge where they’d watched the sunset a few times after hoverbike races, just as the sun was dipping past the horizon and the first stars were becoming visible.

“Keith,” Shiro had said, breathless. Keith wasn’t sure if that was a good thing. “This is incredible. I had no idea you were such an artist.”

Keith had tried to play it off, he’d only been able to work on it when his roommate wasn’t around or finding quiet corners of the library where he wouldn’t disturb anyone studying with the spread of pencils and colours as he tried to get things exactly right. Shiro, of course, just put his hand on Keith’s shoulder and told him how grateful he was.

“Your work is beautiful,” Shiro said as he tacked it carefully onto the wall, standing back proudly with his hands on his hips. Keith blushed and shoved another forkful of cake into his mouth.

That picture had stayed on Shiro’s wall right up until he left for Kerberos. He’d pressed it into Keith’s hands the night before the launch, saying _keep it safe for me_ and Keith had promised him that, like the art, _I’ll be here when you get back._

Keith had rescued it from the old shack in the desert when they’d returned to Earth after the war, bringing it aboard the Atlas just for Shiro to insist it went back up on the wall of their quarters.

Giving gifts to his friends is easy, they don’t need tangible things and if Keith has to wrap something a ribbon around it or on top will do. He’s remembered to do that every time since giving Shiro that first present, but this is a few steps farther than he’s ever gone. The gifts for this celebration need to be non-descript and entirely concealed so the revellers don’t know what it will be until it’s opened. It’s part of the tradition, Keith’s been told, to ensure a genuine feeling of gratefulness and surprise.

So, Keith has to wrap each one, there’s nothing else to do about it. He’s had breakfast: Shiro had plied him full of smoky tea and yesterday’s pastries since neither of them had wanted to get out of bed to make actual food earlier. He’s sent his husband off to his shift on the bridge with an equally smoky kiss and the promise for more when he gets back, and now Keith is alone in their quarters with a pile of presents and determination.

Not that he’s ever actually, you know, _wrapped_ a present before.

It’ll be fine, Keith tells himself. People do this all the time, it’s easy. He can even make them a little fancy, there are bows and ribbons, coloured paper and tissue. Keith’s sure he’s seen Shiro wrap a present that had a fan folded into the paper, that could look nice. There are so many things, it would be good to have some kind of variety.

He gets himself a large glass of water before retrieving his datapad and pulling up some of the tutorials he’d searched the night before. Better to get the fancier things out of the way first so when he’s running out of energy he can just focus on the basics.

The first gift he reaches out of the pile is about the size of his hand and already in a box, which means it’ll be perfect for this fan-shaped tutorial that’s about to start playing. He grabs his knife and the roll of tape and sits down on the floor, pressing play.

***

So, his first attempt doesn’t go great.

The tape gets stuck to one end of the paper that it isn’t supposed to, and while he’s carefully prying it off he misses what was probably an important instruction in the video. Some of the paper ends up stuck to that end of the tape so he has to start again, pausing and catching up. His knife is pretty good at cutting the tape so he lines up a few pieces on the edge of the table for later.

The water glass gets moved after a near miss that has him lunging across the table to catch it, one elbow swiping the datapad off the table where it continued to play face-down in the carpet. Keith nearly face plants into the table to keep the glass from upending all over his hard work.

He’s great at making the creases nice and sharp, but that’s just about all that’s working for him right now. His knife cuts the paper precisely, but wavers towards the other end where he has to stretch to reach. The tape sticks to his fingers or his elbow or the datapad but not the gift. He finally gets one side taped down but picks it up too fast and the box slides straight out the other end and onto the table with a smack.

This last one has Keith flopping back onto the floor in a similar splat, staring up at the ceiling in askance. He just wants to get through these before Shiro gets back, so they can enjoy their few days off together before the conference. He sighs, turning over and standing up to forage through the kitchen for some lunch. Maybe something to eat will help.

The fridge and freezer are full of Hunk’s ready-meals, because while Keith does enjoy cooking and Shiro likes helping him, often they’re exhausted or want to spend their time together in more intimate ways. He’d never seen a man pout so much, Keith remembers with a smile as he turns out one of the meals from its container and slides it into the re-heater, as he had when he’d told Shiro he’d have to wait before he got to give Keith a blowjob. Unfortunately, a pouty-faced Shiro is much too strong for any man to resist, and Keith is weak for his husband in every way. They didn’t end up having dinner that night.

The bell on the re-heater dings and Keith retrieves his lunch, setting it alongside his water glass from earlier on the island separating the kitchen from the living room. It isn’t until he sits down that he notices the uproar around the couch – tape and bits of wrapping paper all around, datapad propped against a ball of discarded tape big enough to hold it up. There’s a roll of ribbon draped over the back of the couch and over one arm, looped around the blade of his knife on the floor. The three gifts he’s been working on are all pristinely laid on the table, the last one still flat where it had fallen.

Keith eyes it. He’ll have it in that fan-shaped wrapping design, and there’ll be curled ribbons on it and everything. He’s not going to give up that easily.

The gifts are cowed into submission from the weight of his glare. He doesn’t let up until he’s finished eating.

The dishes go in the sink for future Keith to worry about, future Keith who’s conquered the pile of gifts and has wrapped each one differently. Future Keith who’s mastered sharp lines and curled ribbon and fan designs. Future Keith who can make fabric bows and fold paper with a piece of tape on each finger and get none of them stuck.

Present Keith has high expectations of himself. He flops down onto the floor again, reaching for that stupid box and rewinding the video. So, he needs a piece of paper big enough to cover the box.

His knife slides through the paper like butter.

***

It’s been two hours since lunch. Keith has taped, cut paper, folded, creased, curled ribbons, taped some more, and now sits and stares at his progress.

The gift sits beside him on the table. The paper it’s supposed to be inside of is beside it, taped completely closed. Keith’s not really sure how that happened.

He’d reach for it but somehow he’s also managed to wind tape around each of his fingers – an overconfident approach – and some of the ribbon had got stuck to it. It’s all wrapped around his fingers and his wrists and he’s.. a little stuck. Keith purses his lips. Glares at the gift.

The door beeps cheerfully and swishes open behind him. Keith’s back is to it, but he hears someone enter, sigh, take off their shoes. Crack every vertebrae in their back, which usually makes Keith laugh and he would if he wasn’t currently occupied. He expects Shiro to announce himself like he usually does, but nothing comes. There’s a loaded silence in the room for a few minutes where nobody moves.

Keith makes the first move and musters up the courage to glance over his shoulder. Shiro has one hand braced against the doorframe and the other is clamped firmly over his mouth. His shoulders are shaking just a little.

Keith turns fully, pouting, and is jerked back by his braid stuck to something on the other end. Shiro sputters behind his hand and breaks down laughing.

He laughs so hard he has to bend over, actually wheezing into his own knees. Keith really, really tries to keep up his pout but Shiro’s laugh is infectious.

“Shiro!” he cries, trying to keep up a pleading face and failing miserably even though his neck is bent at a weird angle from the pull on his hair. “Help me!”

It’s been months, maybe years since he’s seen Shiro laugh like this, actually having to sit on the floor. His knees are folded under him and he’s crying into one hand, wiping streaming tears with his prosthetic fingers. His smile is so big. It warms Keith to see Shiro so happy, finally, that it doesn’t even matter that it’s because Keith is a total mess right now.

_“Baby,”_ Shiro finally wheezes out. “You look like a tangled kitten!”

Keith bares his little fangs at him, but Shiro just finds it cute like he always does.

“Are you stuck to the table? How did this even happen?” Shiro finally manages to drag himself over, walking on his knees to sit next to him on the floor. He takes some time to move aside some tape wads to make a space for himself. His cheeks are red from laughing and his eyes are bright as he looks Keith over. “What- what kind of tape is this?”

Keith tries to look where he’s looking and ends up with his braid wrapped around his throat. Shiro slowly unwinds him, hands broad on his shoulders, until they’re facing each other, the table to the side.

“Tape is tape, right? I found it in Stores.” Oh, Shiro’s looking at his braid, where the end seems to be secured in three or four of the pieces he’d stuck on the edge of the table. He’d forgotten about those.

“Baby..” Shiro says. It sounds more like a sigh, actually, and he starts trying to peel the hairs out of the tape tangle. “Is this packing tape? Like, for sealing boxes?”

Keith blinks at him. “I am sealing boxes.”

Shiro purses his lips. Keith doesn’t get it. “It’s fine as long as it sticks, Shiro.”

“It’s really not. Pass me the scissors? I think I need to make some slits in this tape to get it out of your hair without cutting it out. And I don’t want to do that.”

Keith is grateful for his care, and uses both hands to pass him his knife.

Shiro goes to take it, and then stares at what he’s got in his hand.

“Are you.. using this to cut things?”

“That is what blades are for? It works.”

Shiro puts the knife back down onto the table for a moment, and then stares off into the distance. His lips are twitching like he’s trying his best not to laugh again.

“Sweetheart,” he starts. He doesn’t continue right away. Keith rests his taped together hands in his lap and waits for him to continue. His patience pays off because after a while, Shiro gathers himself and looks back.

“Sweetheart,” he says again, and then reaches over to peel the tape and braid off the table in one piece. “You’ve made a great effort.”

Keith wrinkles his nose. “I know I’m not good at this, Shiro, you can say it.”

“Nope,” his husband says, popping the p, and then brings one hand to Keith’s cheek. “I appreciate your tenacity. You’re very good at giving it your all. You’re such a hard worker, but you tie yourself up in knots over-”

Keith leans over to kiss the laughter from his mouth. Shiro’s smile is sweet against his own, but he’s still snickering.

“What should I do with you?” Shiro says when Keith pulls back a little. Keith tilts his head, brushes Shiro’s nose with his own.

“You could have your way with me,” Keith says with a smirk. He tries to be flirty but he thinks there’s tape in his eyebrow and Shiro just starts laughing again against his lips. Actually he manages to sputter a laugh _into_ Keith’s mouth and the sensation is so ridiculous it sets them both off.

Keith laughs into Shiro’s shoulder until they both tip backwards onto the floor, narrowly missing the pile of gifts but landing on the excess paper and tape Keith’s already gone through. By the time they’re calming down Shiro has as much tape stuck in his hair as Keith does, and paper shreds all over his uniform.

“Okay,” he says, running a hand down Keith’s back, unburdened by tape and ribbon. Keith feels a spike of envy. His own hands are still caught between them.

Shiro helps maneuver him back to sitting and then stands to search out some proper scissors. Keith bites back another laugh as a length of tape flutters behind him, attached to his pants like a tail. When Keith points this out to him, he smirks over his shoulder and shakes his ass to make it sway. It startles Keith into another laugh. _There’s_ a move he’ll definitely have to get Shiro to recreate for him, maybe with fewer clothes between them next time.

When he returns he’s got a pair of small, slim scissors, a ruler, and a roll of tape that looks far less strong than what Keith’s been using. Shiro sets the other things down on the table and sits in front of Keith, taking his braid in one hand. Keith holds his breath as Shiro makes delicate snips in the tape snarl, and tries not to wince as his hairs get pulled even all the way down at the end. It doesn’t take too long to get it all out of Keith’s hair, and Shiro starts to work snipping apart the ribbon holding his wrists together.

“Baby,” he says when working the tape off of the fingers of his left hand, paying extra attention around his ring, “you just have to ask if you need help.”

Keith sighs. The mountain of gifts looks even taller than it had this morning. “I just wanted to do it so you didn’t have to.”

“I don’t mind helping you.”

Shiro kisses the inside of his wrist as he finally frees them, the thin skin sensitive under the tickle of his lips. It makes Keith blush a little, still, the sweetness of the gesture paired with Shiro’s soft smile. Keith’s still a little in awe of the fact that their relationship is what it is now, that Shiro will look at him with love and adoration in his eyes, cup his cheek and kiss his lips. He’s not sure what he’s done to deserve something as incredible as Shiro’s undivided attention and unwavering loyalty, but Keith knows Shiro will just give him a look if he tries to bring it up. He’s getting better at believing his own worth, and the adoration in each one of Shiro’s actions goes a long way.

Shiro turns his hand over and kisses his ring, keeping his eyes on Keith’s as he does. Keith feels his face grow hotter and he smiles wide again when Shiro moves to pepper his cheeks with kisses instead.

“Really, I really don’t mind.” He punctuates it with a kiss to Keith’s nose, then a peck on his lips. “It’ll be fun. And, uh, probably faster, sorry baby.”

Keith can’t blame him. He’s already spent far too long on this with no progress. “Okay,” he agrees, reaching over to pluck the last of the tape bits from Shiro’s shirt. “I could use the help.”

Shiro insists they start by tidying up the workspace, then organising the gifts in order to be wrapped. He has the tape and scissors he grabbed earlier within easy reach and the paper laid out in front of him. He takes a seat on the floor in front of the coffee table and goes to reach for the first gift.

Keith grabs his hand and uses it to steady himself as he drops into Shiro’s lap, back to his chest. He can feel Shiro’s surprise and cranes his neck back to peck him on the cheek. “Okay Mr Present-Wrapping-Master, show me how it’s done.”

“Like this?”

“Yeah,” Keith says, wrapping Shiro’s arms around him to reach the table. This kind of wrapping he can do. “Don’t you think this’ll be more fun?”

“Fun, he says,” Shiro mutters as he shifts Keith on his lap to a more comfortable position, and then grabs his hands and puts them on the edge of the table out of the way. “Okay, so what were you trying to work on? We’ll start simple and then see what we can do to decorate after.”

Keith’s mouth clicks shut at the mention of “start simple” because, well, he definitely didn’t do that. Also Shiro’s hand is kneading a really nice rhythm into his thigh, rubbing up and down and squeezing just a little. Shiro’s good with his hands - Keith knows this intimately - so it shouldn’t be a surprise he’s good with wrapping things too.

“Uh, I have a video tutorial up on the datapad,” he says, reaching over for it. He props up the pad and rewinds the video, deciding not to look over his shoulder at Shiro’s expression when he notices the difficulty level of the design he’d chosen.

They watch the video for a little while and then before Keith can shut it off Shiro rests his forehead on the back of Keith’s head, huffing a laugh into his hair. “Hey Keith,” he says, and the laughter is back in his voice as well. Keith’s pretty sure Shiro’s going to hold this whole thing over his head for the rest of their lives. The worst part is, Keith can’t even blame him for it.

“Remember how we’ve had that conversation? The one about _focus on the basics?_ That one?”

Keith crosses his arms over his chest with a huff but that just gives Shiro better access to wrap his arms around him tighter, squeezing him back into his chest.

“Does this look like the basics?” Shiro gives him a little shake with his whole body and Keith can’t help his own laughter as they wiggle together. “I think we’re gonna start simple. We can try that fan design later.”

They do start simple. Shiro takes Keith’s hands, guides him in measuring out the right amount of paper they need to cover one of the small boxes. The scissors are thin but strong, and slide through the paper easily, Shiro’s reach helping out when it gets too far for Keith.

He makes Shiro work for it, though.

His fingertips run over the strong tendons in Shiro’s flesh arm as he flattens out the paper, stroking over the soft skin bared when Shiro had taken off his Captain’s jacket. It’s been thrown over the back of the couch to deal with later on, a sprawl that Shiro doesn’t usually allow unless he’s feeling particularly relaxed. Keith loves it, loves seeing their apartment looking lived in, like they belong here. They don’t have a lot of things, but he’s learned to love the permanence of them.

Shiro flexes and Keith’s fingers tighten their grip around his forearm, appreciating the girth.

“Are you paying attention?”

Keith hums. “Very much,” he says, punctuating his sentiment with a squeeze. And a second one for good luck, because Shiro grabs his hands away and covers them with his own.

“Pay attention to the paper,” Shiro says into his ear, raising goosebumps on the back of his neck as his warm breath ghosts along the shell of it. His lips are close enough that Keith can almost feel them and his smile grows. Shiro’s always risen to his challenges.

With Shiro’s hands covering his, Keith's more interested in paying attention to the wrapping though the weight and size of them does lead his mind down some other paths that has Keith shifting on Shiro’s lap a few times. He can be good though. They’ve got a plan, and then maybe Keith can act on some of these ideas later on tonight.

It takes them most of the afternoon, but they get the basics covered by the time they break for dinner. Keith has successfully wrapped sixteen presents - not a bad match to Shiro’s twenty that sit serenely in a pile on the floor next to the table. They’re plain, but Shiro’s promised to show him how to tie a ribbon with multiple loops and those that don’t get ribbon details have space for doodles - Keith just has to grab his coloured pencils. He’s got some ideas on how he wants to decorate them.

Keith sighs as he leans his chin on one hand, elbow on the tabletop. Shiro looks pleased with himself and it’s always a good look on him.

“Thanks for this,” Keith says, a smile curving his lips up on one end. “It was easier with you.”

“We're a team, baby. I’m always here to help you.” Shiro smiles indulgently back at him. That smile has kept Keith’s heart warm for years. It always beats just a little faster whenever he sees it. He’s sure he’s giving Shiro heart-eyes, but Shiro’s giving them back and there’s no one else here to tell them not to. Shiro continues after they smile at each other for longer than probably necessary. “So do you think you’ll put your new skills to good use?”

Keith scoffs, leaning back from the table. “I still don’t think it’s worth it.”

His bluntness gets Shiro laughing again.

“But really, when am I going to use this? Maybe one or two more times. I’ve done pretty well without having to wrap anything before.” He toys with a length of soft ribbon between his hands. He doesn’t think he’ll find himself in this situation too often. Most of the time when he gives a gift he’s doing things for someone else, like bringing Shiro a cup of tea, becoming Hunk’s sous-chef for Paladin dinner, or giving Lance pointers on how to deal with that asteroid field next time he’s in the pod. He took Allura to get her hair cut (“first time in ten thousand years!” she’d told the stylist with an excited grin and he’d had to cough to cover his laugh) and installed a piece of tech for Pidge when her arms weren’t quite long enough to get it into place. He’d listened to Coran’s stories of Altea-that-was and spent weeks on a large painting that now hangs in the older Altean’s study.

Keith has learned over the years that he likes to give gifts of time; he likes to do things for others that help them or bring them joy. He’d taught Romelle an intricate braid that his mom had shown him a year or two ago. On her name-day last year, she had insisted he braid it and that they match hairstyles the entire day. She’d confided in him after the party was wrapping up in the evening, that her favourite part of the day wasn’t the gifts or the food or the party itself, but the time they’d spent together that morning and the care he’d taken to make sure that not a strand of her hair was out of place. She had said she could feel the love he wove into that braid.

Physical gifts have never meant much to Keith, he thinks, rolling the ribbon over in his hands and remembering that old book of coupons his pop had treasured so dearly. He shows his love in his actions, and he doesn’t want to keep them hidden behind paper and bows. He snaps the ribbon tightly, looking up into Shiro’s handsome face watching his own, an amused expression brightening his eyes.

“Besides,” Keith says, crawling over on his knees to Shiro’s side and looping the ribbon around Shiro’s neck. He ties it into a loose bow and then hooks two fingers underneath the knot to pull Shiro closer. “I’m much better at unwrapping, don’t you think?”

Shiro’s teeth closing around his lower lip is answer enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
